Ice Age Apocalypse: I Level Up by Causing Trouble

With a chime, the system announced, "Uncle Garrett's dignity is completely trampled, and humiliation levels are maxed out. +300 points!

"Rewards include a fully automatic multi-functional fishing rod with a 500-pound weight capacity!"

"That's a good lad," I cooed. "But I've got enough underlings, so you might as well stay out in the cold and enjoy the breeze. My place is too small for someone of your stature anyway."

"Flint, I'm going to kill you!"

Garrett completely lost it. He swung the crowbar and slammed it against the rolling shutter while screaming at the top of his lungs, "The zombies are coming, so break it down! This place is packed with food; whoever grabs it keeps it!"

The neighbors behind him went feral at his words. They charged at the door with their steel pipes raised high, but the system-reinforced titanium-alloy door didn't even budge. Not even a single flake of paint was chipped off.

Instead, the force of Garrett's slam recoiled so hard that it split the skin between his thumb and forefinger. While he screamed in pain, a horde of zombies rounded the corner of the street, just less than 300 feet away.

Sweating profusely from panic, Garrett suddenly looked up at the second-story window of the grocery store, where it was still open.

His eyes lit up as he barked an order, "Quick! Get a ladder and climb up so we can hide inside!

"Once we're in, the two old farts and that brat are at our mercy. We'll toss them out to feed the zombies and keep everything for ourselves!"

In the control room, Dad was shaking with rage as he crushed the teacup in his grip. "Monsters! They're absolute monsters!

"We've never treated Garrett badly. Now, to think he'd kill us over food and treat his nephew like that…"

I patted Dad on the shoulder, and my gaze turned cold. "This is who he really is, and he'd always hidden it well, Dad. We're the ones who'll die if we don't act."

Dad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you know what you need to do, and don't worry about me, Flint."

"Alright."

A cruel smile curved at my lips. I'd intentionally left the window open.

"Come on up, Uncle Garrett."

Holding the newly rewarded, fully automatic and multi-functional fishing rod, I headed over to the window on the second floor, where the mob had propped up a ladder outside.

Garrett scrambled up the rungs with a greedy grin plastered across his face, as if he could already see a house full of food and me begging for mercy.

Slowly, he got closer until his hands gripped the windowsill. After hauling half his body inside, he laughed and excitedly shouted, "I'm in! Flint, you little piece of—"

Before he could finish, my size 11 slipper slammed right into his face.

I looked down at him, casually dangled the cold, shimmering fishing line in front of his eyes, and bared my teeth in a wide grin.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Garrett.

"I know how much you used to love fishing, so I decided to go for a big catch today too. Would you be interested in helping me out?"